Death and the Clever One
by Thobbit
Summary: There is an old Earth legend about Death being trapped inn a tree by the personification of poverty. I read it, and thought, "What if this had happened on Discworld?" I wrote a story. Here it is.


**Death and the Clever One**

A Discworld Folktale

There is a tale among the peoples of the islands of the Northern Rim. It is very popular, and has been analyzed by the greatest scholarly minds of the Disc, who have most properly declared it a useless, primitive fiction with no bearing on anything, containing essential truths for all ages. It goes like this:

Once upon a time there was a king. He ruled over a great kingdom of those days, rich and prosperous, though now we would call it nought but a village. But his queen was not very good. She was as beautiful as the day was long, but she would not produce an heir. Finally, after many years of hoping and wishing, spells and potions, the queen produced a daughter. The princess was sickly, and everyone expected her to die like the others. But this one did not. Once she had stayed for a twomonth, she was given a name: Callida, the Clever One, for her oddly knowing eyes.

Callida remained a sickly child, and proved herself a clever one. Because of this, she was not liked by the other children. Her best companion was the tree outside her bedroom window, which always bore good fruit. Being sickly and a bit lazy, she was often abed, eating the what fruit she could easily reach. But the fruit was very good, and oftentimes people from the village would sneak into the palace grounds and steal the fruit.

One day, when Callida was healthy, she went to market. At the market she bought some cloth and beads, and was about to add a rope to her pack when she saw a man on the side of the road.

"Why are you sitting on the side of the road?" she asked him.

"Because I cannot buy anything," he replied, "nor do I have anything to sell or trade."

Callida, though sickly, was not an especially selfish child. "Here," she offered, "take these few coins for which I have no use."

The man looked suspicious. "But you were about to buy rope," he pointed out. "That is a use. I would not take coins from a liar."

"I am not a liar," said Callida. "I have no need for a rope. With this cloth I can spin a thread strong enough to bear my weight, and with these beads I can string up anything I choose. I need no rope."

"That is good sense," replied the man, and he took her coins. "Now that you have been kind to me, I would be kind to you. Is there something you wish?"

Callida was beginning to think the man a bit odd, and said the first thing that came to her head: "I wish nobody could take the fruit from my tree unless I said they may."

"Very well," said he. "It is done." And he disappeared.

For many years Callida continued to live in the palace. Often she sickened, and lay abed, eating only what fruit she could reach through her window. But this was well now, because nobody stole the fruit, and there was plenty all year round.

One day Callida was abed with a head cold. Unknown to all the Palace Physicians, it was not just a head cold, but a rare and deadly malady. So that afternoon, Death came for her.

"Hello," she greeted him calmly, for malady was nothing new to the sickly princess, and she had had many near-death experiences. "How is your horse?"

HE IS FINE, Death answered. But now we must go. Your life is at an end. And he held up an hourglass with Callida's name engraved upon it, in which a few last grains of sand teetered on the edge of falling.

Callida thought quickly. "I will gladly go with you," she said, "if only you will get me one last piece of fruit from my tree." She gestured weakly towards the window. "We shall not leave until I have had my last fruit."

VERY WELL, said Death, and he climbed out the window onto a branch. But the fruit would not come off the tree. This fruit is stuck, he said.

Callida smiled. "No sir, I merely do not say that you may take it. So you will stay here, if you please. Or as I please, anyway."

So Death was trapped in Callida's fruit tree. Of course, Callida could not leave her room either, but she had food brought, and was content. This went on for many days. Death could not collect anybody, so nobody died, even those in deep agony or illness. There were too many people in the kingdom, and great confusion.

After a week, a woman came. She wore a stiff grey dress and her hair was all white, except for one black streak. She barged into Callida's room and stormed over to the window, demanding, "Grandfather, what is going on? You have got to stop doing this! You can't just decide to take a vacation, or retire again."

Death looked up from the cat which had somehow climbed the tree. I have not taken a vacation, nor retired. I am merely sitting in this tree. The fruit will not come off.

"What?"

At the same time, Callida recovered from her surprise and challenged, "Who are you and what right have you to enter my room?"

The woman turned to face her. "Be quiet please," she said sharply. Somehow, though she spoke just the same, it was clear that the 'please' was an unfelt formality.

Death, still in the tree, explained, The Princess requested one last fruit before we left. The fruit will not come off the tree. We cannot leave.

"Why are you in the tree then?" the woman answered tartly.

The cat would not go into the room, said Death calmly. He shifted his seat to reveal a kitten perched nervously on a small branch.

The woman turned to Callida. "You, girl, why won't the fruit come off?" Callida started, but the woman interrupted, "No, don't answer that. I can see it's some sort of trick. It won't come off unless you want it to, will it? Selfish." Callida tried to protest, but the woman kept talking. "Yes, a trick." She turned back to Death. "I can't believe you were tricked! You usually only let the Lancre witches do that."

It is a folktale, I believe, said Death.

"Of course. So you can't just tell her to let the fruit go, because that would ruin the Story."

Yes.

"Can I?"

I am unsure. You are not usually involved in this sort of thing.

The woman nodded decisively. "I am now. This ridiculous. People aren't dying." She faced Callida, watching the exchange in confusion. Let him pick the fruit, she commanded the princess.

Callida trembled and nodded. It was the voice of Death coming from this woman's mouth, that no mortal could ignore.

Death picked a fruit and climbed back through the window. Thank you, Susan, he told the woman. She nodded. To Callida, he proffered the fruit. Eat, and I will attend to others who should have met me these past days. I will be back soon. And he strode out through the closed door.

Callida ate the fruit, peering nervously at the woman. Susan, as Death had called her, was peering back, but in a manner that made Callida suspect she was being viewed in the entirety.

"You are named well, aren't you?" said Susan. "Very clever, even if you are playing a part. We all play parts, after all."

Callida ventured a "Yes?"

"Yes," Susan replied. "Now, my grandfather—that's Death—will be back fairly soon. But I'd like to offer you a choice. I don't know how it happened on such loose, capricious rock, but you clearly have some witching skill, or you wouldn't have been able to do any of this at all."

Callida didn't think she dared hide anything at this point. "Actually it was a man," she said, "who enchanted the tree. Not me. I just gave him a bit of charity."

"Yes, yes," Susan said dismissively. "But that's a good practice for a witch, politeness, and you're evidently honest, or at least sensible. And fairly clever with wording. It takes good linguistics to trap Death."

Callida smiled at the praise. Most humans will even under the sharpest duress.

"So I'd like to offer you a choice," said Susan. "You may, of course, die. You'll do that eventually anyway, but instead of going ahead with it now, I can take you to be trained in real witchcraft. I don't know how long you'll live, but the witches I know are rather better at curing ailments than your Court Physicians."

"Real witchcraft?" Callida asked eagerly. "Like the spell on my tree?"

"Probably not," replied Susan. "A lot of hard work and common sense, really. But I think you would do well."

"Then I'll take that option," said Callida decisively. "Anything is better than my dull life in bed, always being fussed over."

Susan nodded approvingly. "Excellent," she said briskly. "I'll need to take you to a different time as well. Our ride should be here shortly."

"You can't travel in time yourself?" Callida asked curiously.

"No," Susan said shortly. "But I have a...a friend who does." She blushed slightly.

And then Time appeared, and whisked them away.

Used to her warm tropical island, Callida caught a chill during her first Ramtops winter and died, after only three months training. Thus, the moral of the story is that Death may never be cheated, even by the clever, and life is just unfair sometimes.


End file.
